


At the Stroke of Midnight

by beanmilk (trilobites)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Butch/Femme, F/F, He/Him Lesbians, Light Angst, Mild Painplay, Name-Calling, Non-Penetrative Sex, Non-binary Lesbians, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character - Freeform, Reclaimed Slurs, Role Reversal, Slut Shaming, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilobites/pseuds/beanmilk
Summary: Months of flirtation and attempts to remain "just friends" have come to this: an evening in Jeanie's hotel room at the venue of a New Year's Eve party.
Relationships: Quentin Truong/Jeanie Seo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	At the Stroke of Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone is an adult. Please have a good look at the tags before proceeding.

Jeanie struggled with getting the keycard in the slot—first flipping it upside down before missing the slot altogether. She couldn’t help it with how much her hands were shaking. There was a quiet laugh behind her, and she felt her face burn when a pair of hands came over hers and helped her match up the card to the slot. She hadn’t even had that much champagne, and it wasn’t like she was a virgin, either! Thankfully, the door unlocked without further incident. Jeanie opened it and walked into the room. She turned back to invite in Quentin, who hid his amused smile behind his hand.

“I hope you don’t have that much trouble aiming with everything.”

Jeanie blushed even darker, growing indignant at the insinuation behind his words. “No! I mean, of course not! I was just—oh, ugh!”

Quentin was properly laughing now, in a way that made his eyes crinkle and Jeanie’s heart race. Still, she couldn’t forget that he was having fun at her expense. She smacked Quentin’s shoulder in retaliation. Unfortunately, it didn’t mean that he had stopped laughing. It only seemed to embolden him to grab her arm and pull her in close. The door clicked shut behind them, and it was just the two of them enclosed in her room, away from the clamor outside.

“You’re really cute,” Quentin said.

“You’re a bully.”

In the end, Jeanie didn’t really have a problem with that, not when Quentin cradled the back of her head and kissed her like he was hungry for it. How long had it been since anyone had touched him? Was he used to being in charge or letting someone else set the pace? Jeanie sucked on Quentin’s tongue before pushing hers into his mouth experimentally. He only moaned and tightened his hold on her waist as she thrust her tongue in and out of his mouth. The sensation of breaching the tight ring of his lips sent a wave of pleasure through Jeanie, and she nearly whined in her excitement.  
When they pulled apart, they were both breathing hard. Quentin’s lips were shining, and the lenses of his glasses were smudged. Jeanie wanted to see what he would look like when he really fell apart, no longer the composed and collected Quentin that she’d come to know.

“I want to fuck you,” she announced.

Quentin blinked. “Wasn’t that the idea here?”

“I mean, I want to top.” Jeanie paused for a moment before adding, “I like being bossy, but I also like being serviced. What about you?”

“Oh. I…I didn’t think that far. Women usually like it when I’m calling the shots.” Then he flushed up to the tips of his ears. Cute. “I’m okay with trying it the other way around. If you are.”

“Yeah, I want to.”

Quentin smiled at her. “Then I’m at your mercy.”

Even though he said that, there was still the look of insolence in Quentin’s eyes. Jeanie grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and walked him back into the suite. It took all of three steps to get him on his back on the bed. He looked up at her expectantly, and Jeanie hurriedly kicked off her heels, hitching up her dress to climb on top of Quentin. She sat astride his hips and pulled his hands up to her body.

“Touch me.”

Quentin nodded. His hands were at her waist, then down her hips and to her thighs under the skirt of her dress. The sleek fabric of her dress only heightened the sensation of his palms brushing over her body. Quentin squeezed her thighs and reached behind to squeeze her ass, too. Jeanie sighed. There was already a growing pressure in her pussy, which was starting to grow slick and hot. She used Quentin’s grip on her as leverage to grind her hips against his. Jeanie moaned and arched at the heat the motion sent to her toes.

“Jeanie,” Quentin said, breathless.

Jeanie shivered. To Quentin, she was always ‘Janine,’ a name so solemn and adult that not even her own parents called her by it. It implied distance and clearly delineated their boundaries. Hearing Quentin blow past those boundaries and call for her in that breathless voice turned Jeanie on more than anything.

“I think,” she said, “you should come and get under my skirt now.”

“Oh, can I?”

“I want you to.” Jeanie got off of Quentin and went to lie back against the pillows. She watched Quentin take off his suit jacket and his oxfords one by one. There was even an expensive tie and cufflinks that he undid and deposited on the bedside. Quentin came over to kneel where Jeanie lay and put a hand on her leg.

“How do you want me to do this?” he asked, the picture of a caring, attentive butch. Jeanie could hardly wait to have him.

“You can feel me up first. And then maybe I can call you some names before I let you fuck me?”

“What kind of names?”

Jeanie thought about it. What would feel the most natural to call Quentin, who was probably the most straitlaced, parental person she knew? She looked at his hand, brown and knuckles thickened with age, the obvious way he carried his years in the grey streaking his hair. It contrasted everything about her; he was old enough to have been her mom, after all. And if she were honest with herself, that was a fact that she found appealing rather than something meant to be overcome. The words left Jeanie’s mouth before she could think twice: “Mm, like dirty old dyke.”

Quentin sucked in a sharp breath. “I like that.”

Pleased, Jeanie answered, “Okay, then. Why don’t you come here and do your job?”

Quentin immediately got closer to her, and his hand traveled further up her skirt to squeeze her pussy through her panties. Jeanie sighed. He made a quiet noise as he repeated the motion. The entire time, his eyes were trained on Jeanie, watching for her reactions and expressions. The enjoyment on his face was clear to see.

“Do you like doing that, you dirty old dyke?”

“Oh, god, I do. It feels good!” He was rubbing his palm up against her folds more deliberately now, panting all the while. “Call me that again. Please.”

Jeanie exhaled heatedly. Fuck. She didn’t expect him to react like this, but now that she knew, she wanted to know how much she could push this. “Are you proud of being a dirty old dyke?” she asked. “You look really dirty right now, with your hand up my skirt and panting even though I’m not even letting you touch under my panties.”

Quentin whimpered. “I can’t help it. It just feels really good when I get to touch a pretty girl.”

It was a truly dirty pronouncement. Jeanie knew that he wasn’t a monk; she’d noticed his eyes traveling to her cleavage one too many times over the past months to believe that. However, it was the first time that he’d said something like this with so little restraint. Jeanie’s clit throbbed hard in response. She couldn’t be patient anymore. She yanked down her panties, uncaring of how hard to get she had been playing just a moment ago, and pulled Quentin’s hand up to her aching pussy.

“Rub my clit,” she ordered.

“Yeah, okay. I will. Whatever you want.”

Quentin’s fingers skimmed the parting of her folds, and he brushed over the swollen nub of her clit. Jeanie arched off the bed from that touch alone.

“Oh, Jeanie.”

Jeanie whined. “My whole clit is throbbing because you were being such a gross butch!”

Quentin blushed, his entire face suffused with pink. “I know I’m a gross butch, but um—I can make you feel good.”

His finger began rubbing her clit, starting in slow strokes up and down before he started working it in tight circles. Quentin’s words weren’t idle talk. Heat was rolling deep within her, so good that her toes curled. Jeanie found herself getting worked up fast under Quentin’s experienced touch. He groaned and his eyes clenched shut like he was the one who was deriving all the pleasure simply from touching her.

“Your pussy got so fucking wet, Jeanie. I think it can take my cock.”

“Oh,” she breathed. None of her previous partners had called any part of their bodies a cock before, but somehow, she thought it suited Quentin. Also, it was clearly something that he wanted, and Jeanie wanted to give that to him. “Then come put your cock inside me.”

Quentin stared at her for a moment, as if he hadn’t processed the words fully. Then he was fumbling with his sleeves, trying to push them up further so he could follow through on her offer. She laughed, but it didn’t deter Quentin from putting his hand between her legs. His fingers were at her cunt, then he pushed them in, thick and hard and splitting open her leaking pussy.

She sighed, “Q, your cock is so big.”

“Fuck, Jeanie! Keep talking like that.” Any restraint that Quentin might have been holding onto was tossed aside after that. Jeanie felt the shift in his energy, in how much pleasure he took in thrusting in and out of her. The rim of her pussy was stretched wide to accommodate Quentin’s fingers—his cock, and she loved it. Quentin panted loudly, and his growing excitement only fueled her desperate longing for him. Jeanie spread her legs wide, wanting Quentin to drive into her as deep as he could.

“Does it get your cock this hard to be in my pussy, you perverted butch?”

Quentin shuddered. “Yes, Jeanie, Jeanie, please! It feels so good inside you!”

Jeanie’s cunt was gushing. She wanted to come. Her clothes felt tight and restrictive on her body. She wanted to feel what it was like to have Quentin on top of her, skin-to-skin, thrusting his hips to fuck into her hole. She settled for pressing a hand to her tits and squeezing them through her dress. Her other hand went to her aching clit, where she began rubbing frantically.

“Q, I want to come on your cock!” Jeanie was close to climax already, the pressure in her pussy grown unbearable. Whatever Quentin did now would push her over the edge, she was sure of it. She was right. The next moment, Quentin flicked her hardened nipple peaking through her bodice, and Jeanie came hard.

When her orgasm finally subsided, Quentin pulled out gingerly and went to the adjoining bathroom to clean his hands. Upon returning, he kissed her forehead and smiled at her.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she said, still catching her breath.

“Did you feel good?”

“Felt really good.” Jeanie’s toes were still tingling from the intensity of her orgasm. “It seemed like you were really into it, too, even though you said you don’t usually bottom.”

Quentin’s smile turned sheepish. “I was into it. It was…the first time I’ve done it like that—where someone called me what I wanted to be called and liked doing it. I guess it’s why I got a little worked up.”

Jeanie peered up at him curiously. Behind the lenses of his glasses, Quentin’s eyes naturally turned down slightly at the outer corners, but there was a sudden solemnity to them as well. Jeanie realized that he was melancholy, even if he didn’t say so with his own mouth. He had lived many more years than she had, and had gone through so many things that had nothing to do with her. To think that it was the first time that anyone had given him this thing that he’d desired was too sad. Discussing feelings and knowing what to say to someone had never been her strong points, but still, Jeanie wanted to comfort him. She sat up suddenly and reached up to put her hands on his face. Quentin just stared at her.

“What is it? Why are you making a face like that?”

“I liked it a lot. A lot a lot,” she said. “It’s hot when you’re a pervert and tell me that you want to stuff my pussy with your cock.”

Quentin’s cheeks went warm under her touch, and his gaze darted to the side. “Jeanie, that’s…really dirty. But if you liked it, then I’m glad.”

Jeanie knew that she’d said the right thing because the cloudiness in Quentin’s expression went away. Even if it was later in life than was fair, Jeanie was happy that she could be the one to give Quentin something that he wanted and make him feel good. She smiled at Quentin and pulled him down for a kiss, soft and chaste. When they parted, she kissed the curve of his chin.

“Do you want me to touch you now?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

Quentin climbed onto the bed next to her, and he had barely sat down before Jeanie was working at the buttons on his shirt. Quentin’s hands joined hers, and they worked from opposite ends of the column of buttons until they met in the middle. They made eye contact with each other and laughed, and Jeanie’s heart was full with fondness for him. Quentin pulled her down to lie against the pillows next to him. She reached into his shirt and pulled down the strap of his undershirt to expose one of his tits. Jeanie put her mouth to the hardening nipple and lapped at the bud.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped as she sucked and tugged on his other nipple through his shirt.

Jeanie shivered. He tasted good, like sweat and soap, the scent of his deodorant sharp in her nose. She kept lapping at his nipple while she reached to undo his pants. Quentin had skipped out on a belt, leaving only the metal hook and button before she got to the zipper. Jeanie pulled it down slowly, listening to how Quentin’s panting seemed to grow louder and more desperate by the second.

“I won’t even have to touch your cock for you to get excited,” Jeanie teased. She pushed her hand into Quentin’s pants. “And then all you’ll need is a rough handjob to get off.”

Quentin huffed and whined, arching into Jeanie’s touch. His fingers scrabbled at the sheets beneath them as she slipped her fingers between the slick folds of his cunt. She found his clit and rubbed it none too gently. It was easy to get friction on the hardened nub. She knew when she had found a good spot by the quaking of Quentin’s voice. Jeanie applied even more pressure to his clit and groaned.

“Fuck, your cock is swollen.”

“Yeah, it is! I’m so hard because of you, Jeanie!”

Quentin’s bliss was obvious, his eyes glazed over where they looked at her. The combination of his mussed hair and glasses knocked askew, along with the state of his clothes, made him look every bit the part of a slutty butch eager to be dominated by a younger woman. A possessive feeling unfurled inside her, and it caused her to growl and yank on Quentin’s hair before she could even think about it. His eyes rolled back and he moaned helplessly, writhing against her. Jeanie felt his clit twitching under her finger.

“Does your cock like that, you nasty dyke? Are you a slut for pain?”

“Oh, god, yes! I love it! I’m a gross pain slut, Jeanie! Jeanie, please, I’m—fuck, I’m going to come!”

Jeanie watched with wide eyes as Quentin did just that. He arched off the bed, his stomach flexing as he allowed himself to be swept up in the throes of his orgasm. She rubbed his clit through it, until he fell boneless against the sheets. He was breathing hard, trembling with the aftershocks o this orgasm. She pulled her hand out of his pants and let go of his hair. Jeanie brushed her fingers against Quentin’s cheek and kissed the tip of his nose.

Finally, Quentin opened his eyes and looked at her. Jeanie felt strangely anticipatory, like she was receiving an evaluation for her work. She waited with bated breath as he gathered his thoughts.

“You have to take it easy on an old dyke,” he said, at last.

Jeanie tilted her head. “Huh?”

“You’re going to kill me, Jeanie.” Quentin ran a hand over his face. “I felt really good. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Oh.” Though she hadn’t been the one to come, she was warm and satisfied that she was able to make Quentin feel that good. She wrapped an arm around him and pressed herself up to him. “Then I’m glad.”

Quentin stroked her cheek then petted her hair. The broadness of his palm felt nice on her skin. She lay there quietly with him. Jeanie didn’t know what she could expect in the new year, but she knew that she liked Quentin and what they had building between them. If the comfortable silence was an accurate indication, then Quentin did, too. He had finally acted on the feelings he admitted to having for her, after all. Outside, the clamor of the crowd could be heard as people waited in anticipation of the stroke of midnight. In the room, there were only the quiet sounds of breathing as she and Quentin kept each other company, encased from the outside world for just a few minutes longer.


End file.
